Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Wow. What a hot and dreadful summer it was here in the Portland countryside. There were times when I sincerely thought I was going to melt! But I think the worst of it's over - I just came back inside from letting the rooster out of his coop and all I can say is that the weather out there, right now, is perfect. It's almost 70 degrees, azure skies that go on for miles and a there's just this quality of light outside today; the angle of the sunlight hitting the leaves as the days grow closer to the autumnal equinox.

Anyway! On to the good stuff! I've been really running myself ragged with the Hallows update. I feel compelled to make the current year's releases even better than the previous years'. And while that is an admirable goal and aspiration it can, at times, create a crucible of pressure and anxiety to be and do more better, faster and immediately and now. Ugh!

Before I got too twisted around, though, I remembered why I started this little perfume house that could in the first place - because I believe magick and mundane to be one in the same. Simple and elegant all at the same time. As soon as I remembered my roots, more or less, the ideas flowed quickly and easily. I mean, it still took me forever to get everything dialed in just so, but nonetheless, I am confident that this year's Otherworldly Hallows will blow your mind!

(on a slightly sour note, I had to bump up shipping just a smidge. USPS raised rates a couple of times last year, so I had to raise the shipping by .25 cents. So, that means all orders under $50 ship for $2.75 domestic and $4.25 international. Sorry folks. :( Thanks for understanding!)

An Otherworldly All-Hallows

Halloween 2009

All-Hallows marks the time of the year when the veil that parts the realms of the living from the dead is at its thinnest. These lucky thirteen oils were hand-crafted to embody the power and the spirit of the season that celebrates the darkest parts of our imaginations and of the unseen world around us all.

Available in 5ml bottles for $17.50 each and a set of all 13 bottles for $225 ppd.

You were lurking in the shadows again, up to no good and, quite possibly, caught red-handed. You're going to have to think fast if you're going to get out of this one, but try thinking over the bang of blood in your ears that slaps your senses silly as adrenaline tortures your veins. You feel faint and your heart feels like it's going to explode out of your chest. You savor the rush and use your cunning to narrowly escape into the night.

three different blends of the darkest of chocolates coalesce into an intoxicating sugar buzz as cinnamon, ginger and the lightest suggestion of coffee kick your adrenals into high gear while opium and oud take the edge off.

Buried Alive. Again.

Didn't you learn your lesson after that last incident?

Dark wood from a fractured coffin, moist loam, ozone and mist, your white funerary flowers, a spill of dirt and a healthy dose of desperation.

Dem Bones

"Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones..."

they come alive at God's command! Dance with the skeleton crew in the moonlight as you attempt to connect your foot bone to your leg bone.

Dried bones dampen in a rare desert shower. Night blooming cactus explode in fragrant response as desert sage, sweetgrass and the scent of the tumbleweed that rolls amongst the tombstones perfumes the cool evening winds.

Midnight Dreary

Maybe it's the long winter looming around the corner? Perhaps it's the lengthening of the evening hours that signal the death of summer? Perchance it's simply sorrow for the lost Lenore? I couldn't tell you. But Poe's passion for the macabre (and maybe the love of laudanum) have led you down a dark path this evening. Will the sun ever rise again? In this midnight dreary mood, the answer is unlikely.

pale lilac and melancholy moonflowers decorate an antique mahogany table. Fig and clove, wafts of opium smoke hang heavy in the parlor as an open window carries a draft of night air and autumn leaves.

Murder of Crows

Every fall they gather in murderous shrieking clusters blacking out the branches in the oak and apple trees across the street. They caw and cackle in a long-overdue maniacal avian family reunion from Hell.

This being is responsible for transporting freshly departed souls from the land of the living to the realm of the dead. He, or she is found in many of the world' s religions -- from Christianity's Saint Peter to Vodoun's Guede. When the time comes, take the spirit's hand and be eternally transformed.

Halloween doesn't seem like the best night on earth for a sleepwalk, or does it? Imagine stumbling, as if in a trance, through the dark streets at the mercy of the ghouls, ghosts and goblins that call this night their own. Perhaps they'd consider you a zombie and leave you to your business of roaming, or maybe they'd have a sinister plan for your spiritless shell that shifts aimlessly through the night. Either way, I hope you have clean jammies on.

The night of Hallows, known as Samhain by the Celts, is known as the night when the membrane that divides the world of the dead from the world of the living is at its thinnest. Many claim to be able to see spirits on this night and some even attempt to work with these spirits in seances and divinations. What do you seek from the dead when the veil is at its most fragile state?

Ancient pallid faces with hollow eye sockets wail and moan from the faded stage. Candlelight is all that illuminates the remains of a small theatre in shambles. Threadbare red velvet curtains partially cloak a cracked and decaying backdrop and springs reach like twisted fingers from the seats. Perilous holes dot the floor like a deadly pox waiting for just one misstep to claim their next victim.

The spirits that live in the opera house may have long since lost their bodies, but each and every night, the ghostly show must go on.

muscovado sugar, royal icing and meringue powder with a slight hint of metaphysical white musk.

Hänsel und Gretel 2009

a gingerbread house decorated with spice drops and butter cream frosting. The faint smell of a witch's brew filling the enchanted woods and roaring cook stove perfect for roasting a greedy little boy or girl.

Haunted Hayride 2009

On through the orchards to the haunted house you ride as twilight devours the crisp autumn day. You lie on your back, buried deep in the piles of hay. The tractor pulls the cart so slowly that you feel as if you're floating. You look up at the indigo sky; the emerging stars, the rising moon. The wind rustles the changing leaves as you tremble with anticipation of the terror that awaits you at your destination.

hay absolute is rounded out with juicy pippin apples, autumnal air, creaking floorboards and the faintest wisp of smoldering leaves.

Jenny Greenteeth 2009

Down in the misty bogs and marshes lives Jenny Greenteeth. Her skin is grayish-green, wrinkled and waterlogged. Her hair is stringy and black like seaweed. Her body is old, mangled, contorted. Her joints are swollen and her back is hunched. She waits in the dark on the waters' edge to pull wayward little children to their deaths in the murky deep where she snacks on their flesh and sucks the marrow out of their bones.

I hear that the legend of the Jack-O-Lantern goes this way: In ancient Ireland, an old town drunk by the name of Stingy Jack had tricked the devil from taking him to Hell on several occasions. The first time the devil came to collect Jack's soul, Jack was in his favorite pub enjoying a shot of whiskey. When Stingy Jack saw the devil he insisted that he could not go until his debt to the barkeep was paid. The devil, anxious to get Jack down to Hell, had foolishly turned himself into a coin to pay Jack's bar tab! When Jack saw the enchanted coin he quickly snatched it up and kept the coin in his pocket - along with his silver crucifix, thus binding the devil and keeping his sorry soul safe for ten more miserable years. The second time the devil came to take poor Jack to Hell, Jack pleaded with the devil that he may have an apple to fill his hungry belly before he departs forever to the underworld. Again, Ol' Scratch acquiesces and climbs up the apple tree. Now, Jack may be a drunk, but he is no fool. The devil couldn't get back down from the apple tree - Jack had scattered crucifixes all over the ground! In exchange for his release from the tree, the devil agreed to never take Jack's soul into Hell.

Well, eventually the time came when Stingy Jack's hard living caught up with him and he found himself in front of the pearly gates of Heaven where St. Peter promptly turned him away because of his sinful, unrepentant and debaucherous life. He was sent to Hell where the devil, upon seeing Stingy Jack, was more than pleased to hold up his end of the bargain and never let his soul enter.

Stingy Jack's face must have been a sight because, amazingly, the devil had mercy on sad Stingy Jack and offered him a glowing ember that he had found on the shore near the lake of fire.

Stingy Jack now wanders the earth seeking his soul's final resting place, having his way lit solely by Hell's ember placed inside of a carved turnip.